


Building Castles Out of Shovels

by AudreyV



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexuality, Break Up, F/F, Femslash, Femslash February, Hurt/Comfort, Lesbian Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 12:02:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6115828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AudreyV/pseuds/AudreyV
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We shouldn't do this. Tomorrow you'll--"</p>
<p>"Get back together with Frank? It's not happening this time."</p>
<p>"I was going to say tomorrow you'll regret this."</p>
<p>"I regret murders, not orgasms."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Building Castles Out of Shovels

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this just after "She Hates Us," so it deviates from what Laurel actually did after Frank's confession.
> 
> Finally finished something I don't hate for Femslash February!

"I killed Lila."

The words hung in the air and she knew she heard right but wished she hadn't. Annalise always said you should never ask a question you didn't already know the answer to, but Laurel wanted Frank more than she wanted to be safe and so she'd asked. 

Deep down, it was only the "who" that shocked her. The "what" was clear to her long ago. She knew what men like Frank did in the shadows. She wouldn't go so far as to condone it, but she accepted it as an unfortunate reality of life. With the way she'd grown up, she had to. 

But Lila. The death that set it all in motion, the murder that left her with blood on her hands. She'd spent months telling herself that what they did to Sam Keating was a kind of justice. He was a murderer, after all. 

They were wrong. An innocent man's blood was on her hands. (A guilty man's hands had been on her, inside her. The thought made her choke as she imagined those hands squeezing the life out of Lila.)

Frank was trying to explain but Laurel didn't hear him. She mumbled something about needing time to think. He was more vulnerable than she'd ever seen him. 

Before he said the words she thought she wanted that, but she was wrong.

When she ran from Frank's apartment, she didn't have a destination, but an hour later she was in the elevator of a high rise condo building downtown. 

She knew the address because they'd shared a cab once, but as she rapped her knuckles on Bonnie's door it occurred to Laurel that she should have called first. Normal people would call first. (She hadn't been normal since the night of the bonfire, if she was ever normal at all.)

"What's wrong?"

Bonnie in casual clothes made Laurel realize how much she'd overstepped their friendship by showing up there, but the blonde took her unexpected guest by the arm and guided her inside, even as apologies fell out of Laurel's mouth. 

They sat on the couch and Bonnie put a glass of whiskey in her hand and asked again. 

"We broke up. Me and Frank." It was true, she guessed. She thought she saw empathy on Bonnie's face and Laurel wanted to ask if she knew.  

The words were on the tip of her tongue when she realized it was another question she didn't necessarily want an answer to. 

Laurel had never been great with boundaries, so she tended to keep people at a distance (safe) or pull them in deep (so very risky.)  Bonnie had lingered in the middle ground for a while, and it was uncomfortable. 

"I'm sorry, Laurel. He's an idiot to push you away."

It wasn't that, but Laurel didn't want to think about what it was (images invading her brain, Lila struggling to breathe as those familiar hands squeezed, tighter and tighter) so the law student made one more bad decision.

She clinked the whiskey glass on the coffee table and then made the move. In one fluid motion, Laurel straddled Bonnie's thighs, pushed her back against the couch and kissed her as if doing so would erase the things she didn't want to remember. 

She expected Bonnie to push her away. The blonde had never indicated that she liked women (unless you counted the way she looked at Annalise every second of every day, which Laurel didn't.)  

She knew she'd crossed a line, but when Bonnie stopped the kiss with a gentle hand on her face, she seemed calm rather than disgusted or freaked out. 

"I don't want to take advantage," she said, but Laurel didn't listen because maybe that was exactly what she needed. Let Frank's closest friend (do murderers have friends?) fuck her until she forgot the fact that the three little words he chose weren't the ones she wanted to hear.  

Laurel stopped the protests by pressing their mouths together. She trapped Bonnie's lower lip between her teeth, and the whine that resulted made her hot. 

"We shouldn't do this," Bonnie mumbled in between kisses. "Tomorrow you'll--"

"Get back together with Frank? It's not happening this time."

"I was going to say tomorrow you'll regret this."

"I regret murders, not orgasms." Laurel studied Bonnie's face carefully. "Next objection?"

"We work together."

"Because neither of us would ever fuck someone we work with." Laurel unzipped Bonnie's hoodie and slid a hand under her shirt across her bare waist, pleased when the other woman shivered. "If you don't want this, just say so."

The associate's expression was unreadable, although Laurel could imagine the silent debate. 

"If you're not naked in my bed in the next 30 seconds, I'm going to remember what a bad idea this is."

"Challenge accepted," Laurel murmured, pulling her top over her head and tossing it on the coffee table. 

"Bedroom, Laurel."

"You said naked and bed. You didn't specify the order," Laurel countered, shoving her jeans and underwear down her thighs and kicking them off. 

"The blinds are open."

"You want to put on a show?"

"You're impossible."

"And you're staring at my tits." Laurel headed for what she thought was the bedroom door before Bonnie caught her by the arm. 

"That's a closet. Bedroom is this way."

The bedroom was all light blues and whites and just as chilly as it looked. Bonnie finished tugging her blouse off over her head as Laurel dropped to her knees to divest her of her jeans. 

"I've never seen you in pants," the brunette noted before pressing her lips to the a pale hip. 

They fell into the bed, Bonnie on her back with Laurel's hands and mouth winding their way down her body. 

It had been years since she'd ended up with her head between a woman's thighs, but her old tricks still worked. She nipped and sucked and stroked until Bonnie was thrashing against her. Laurel expected Bonnie to be vocal in bed, maybe even bossy, but as the orgasm crashed through her she stayed completely silent. 

"Fuck. You're good at that," Bonnie murmured as she moved to return the favor. Her touch was gentle and steady, so very different from Frank's bold directness. 

Frank under her skirt, his beard tickling her inner thighs. Lila gasping. No, Bonnie gasping and Bonnie's mouth and her fingers and her apartment so cold Laurel had goosebumps. Sam's blood at the foot of the stairs. A quickie in the back of Frank's car and the way Bonnie glared at her when she came back in reeking of sex. Rebecca in a suitcase. (No, it was just money, but where did Frank get all that money?) Emily Sinclair wrapped in a blanket. Frank in a tank top, standing at the stove stirring the sauce. Annalise bleeding out on the floor. 

"You okay?" Bonnie rested her cheek on Laurel's thigh, brown eyes serious behind an unruly lock of hair. 

"Don't stop."

Bonnie looked concerned but nodded. As the blonde returned to the task at hand, Laurel forced all thought out of her mind. She breathed deeply, coaxing herself to relax enough to unravel. 

The tremors started at her edges and coursed in. Laurel shut her eyes tight and tried not to picture strong fingers clenching around a pale throat as she came. 

Laurel didn't even realize she was crying until Bonnie wrapped her arms around her and started whispering reassurances in her ear. She pressed her cheek against Bonnie's shoulder and let the sobs take her. 

Bonnie held her, stroking her hair until she quieted. They laid in silence for a long time. Laurel tried to find it in herself to regret what she'd done, (any of what she'd done) but past her ribs she was hollow and felt nothing. 

"Frank killed Lila."

Bonnie stiffened against her, her breath catching in her throat. "That can't be true."

"He did. He told me." Laurel pulled away and searched Bonnie's face for any hint that she'd known. In the greenish light of the street lamp, the blonde was sickly pale, her eyes wide with shock and something else. 

"Why?"

"I didn't wait around for an explanation."

"There has to be one."

"Well, sorry I didn't get all the details. I was a little freaked out that I'd fucked a murderer."

Bonnie nodded quickly. "You're right. In the moment you reacted the way anyone would." 

"So what do I do?"

"Sleep on it. See how you feel in the morning." Bonnie held out her arms and lifted the blanket so Laurel could scoot under it.

"Would you be able to go on loving a person who did something like that?" Laurel asked a few minutes later as she warmed one cold hand between both of hers. 

"No," Bonnie replied quietly. "I don't suppose anyone could."


End file.
